>>3353266
Sorry we're starting a little late.

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Fantasy%20Restaurateur%20Quest

>>3353266
>Offer it more soup
Free guard mold get

>>3353266
>Offer it more soup.

Big un, huh?

>>3353276
You ladle in another steaming serving soup and slide the bowl over to the geline. It regards the offering only a microsecond before extending another tendril, draining it and then sliding it back for more.

"Guess that's a five-star review."

The creature purrs in response.

The evening passes in this bizarre fashion, and between the two of you the cauldron of soup--which might have served at least 10 people--is cleaned out within the hour. At the end of it the geline lies curled up (as much as an amorphous blob can curl) at your feet, bubbling softly to your petting.

Not even a day has passed and you've already got another mouth to feed. Well the geline has its uses. You've heard that their intelligence is proportional to the amount of protoplasmic matter, in which case this creature should be a veritable genius. Maybe he can wait tables. Maybe you can teach him to prep work. It is with these mad plans that you fall into a gentle sleep and when you wake again it's a little after dawn and the geline has retreated to his hiding-spot upstairs.

There's still so much work to do. Where to begin?

>You have to find a contractor to get a quote on renovations
>You should visit the farmers to set up an inventory supply
>You can manage the repairs yourself, you just need some laborers

>>3353387
>You have to find a contractor to get a quote on renovations.

Might as well get this done.

>>3353387
>>You should visit the farmers to set up an inventory supply

fresh produce is important

>>3353387
>You have to find a contractor to get a quote on renovations.
Glad you are not dead Watdo

>>3353448
>>3353552

The state of your little ruin is such that, even if the good of cooking himself were serving food here, no one would come to eat it. A chat with the neighbors points you to one Onul Stonefingers, a surly old dwarf that's supposedly been in Oldstone since its inception. His "office" is located in one of the deeper tunnels of the quarry, a literal hole in the ground, and though you've heard he's quite wealthy, his living situation doesn't exactly inspire envy.

His office is spartan. A table and two chairs and little else. But the few furnishings he does have are of exquisite make, clearly dwarven in character. When he catches you staring and feeling out the etchings on his table, he puffs out his chest, spits a wad of reditine into a spitoon and tells you that his cousin "Made this table. Straight from the mountainhome it is. Wedding present." Though as far as you can tell, there is no sign of this dwarf ever having been married.

He gets down to business straight away. "So the old place on Tumbling Road? Know it. Sure. Seen it, sure too. Mess of a place, but rock solid keel. Like dwarf bones."

"How much?"

"I'll have to peek inside o'course. Rough estimate?" He begins tapping his fingers on the table, in a specific motion, like he was playing the organ. "1250, no make it 1300."

"Silver?" Hope springs eternal.

He snorts. "Soverigns."

"I can't afford that!"

He shrugs. "Most of that is just materials and labor. Done right I mean. Stone and brick, get rid of all that rotten wood. Furnishings the whole work. Dining set, bath, bedroom. Total overhaul."

"No, no, it's not a private home. It's a restaurant."

"A restaurant. An eatery? Sure. And what are you? Cook?"

"I am--was--a royal chef."

"Royal, was he? Well! Maybe then...sure, we could work out an arrangement. Food here is atrocious, I miss the feasts of the home. The cook there--should have made her my wife instead of going for looks. Had a thing for me sure, had a bit of a hairlip sure too, but her roasts were magnificent."

"Wait. Are you--you're saying you'll do it for food?"

"Good food. Free table, whenever I want it. Call it an...investment." He takes another wad of reditine and jams it in his mouth.

>Doesn't seem like you have much choice
>Try to bring the price down, a free table is a bit much with the traffic you're hoping for--how about for the first three months instead?
>How about just a loan instead, pay him off the old fashioned way--probably cheaper than a free meal in perpetuity

>>3353674
Kinda sounds like a bargain, honestly; unless he starts getting ridiculous with like, bringing massive parties.
>Accept.

>>3353674
Loan

>>3353674
Sounds good. Invite him for sampling before making commitments.

>>3353749
(He gets a sample of what we can do, we get a sample of what to expect from him.)

>>3353674
>Free table
Give it to him for a year or some amount of time, don't want him eating forever

>>3353700
>>3353749
>>3353795

Dwarven appetites are legendary. You've seen a small family of three destroy all-you-can-eat-buffets like an vengeful god descending on heretics. You don't plan on having such a policy in your restaurant, but having to keep a table open for a potential black hole that might pop up at any time, might mess with your sense of stability. Not that restaurants are stable establishments to begin with.

"How about we sample each other's work first. If we like what we see--or taste, then we have a deal. Otherwise, maybe I can get a loan."

"Sample sure. When? Today?"

You do still have plenty of food of left from yesterday. But attempting to conjure a feast with your limited means is going to be a whole day affair. Especially without so much as a stove or oven.

"Not today, but how about you do your side first. Come over, check out the place, and if you can fix up the brick oven. It'll make my job a lot easier and we can set up a dinner date sometime this week."

He nods. "This is good. I will come tonight." He shows you to the door (hole) and you spelunk yourself back out into the sun.

It's a few hours after midday now. The bazaar is in full swing. You could browse the stalls again, now that you're not so pressed for time. You also need to think about hiring some staff for the restaurant and there are plenty of daytalers about looking for work. You could also go to the farm, but at this point it'd be a whole-day affair.

>You have 92 silver pieces
>Browse the wares, you still need cutlery, cookware, furniture, linens
>Go down to the bottom of the quarry where the daytalers are lounging for work
>Take a carriage to the farms (-2 silver)

>>3353974
>>Browse the wares, you still need cutlery, cookware, furniture, linens
Get a few tables set up in case he brings friends back the next day

>>3353974

>>3354044
Yes.

>>3353974
this >>3354044

>>3354044
>>3354063
>>3354073

You're better off taking the time to explore the market. There's still much to buy, cutlery, cookware, furniture, linens, cleaning supplies. Mostly you just want to gawk over the knives and mithril coated pots and pans (which apparently makes them stick-proof, according to the merchant).

Having just enough to prepare the dwarf's dinner seems like a good first goal. A table and a set of chairs to start with. The merchants refuse to play ball as usual, giving you outrageous prices which you have to negotiate down with a great deal of effort. A spare dining set costs 7 silver pieces with another half-silver for "installation". You also buy some silverware and flatware, having about as much silver in their metal as the 3 coins you use to pay for them. Finally, you purchase some cheap linens from an old crone which in total comes to 11 and a half silver pieces and some change.

You also learn a little more about the town. Oldstone used to be a center of commerce, one of the wealthiest towns for many miles, on account of its rich mithril deposits. This was back when it was elf-ruled.

Onul, the dwarf you just spoke to, was the administrator of the quarry at one point, overseeing its operation and growing rich in the process. Eventually the surface veins ran out and there was only so much earth a band of humans, elves, and a single dwarf could turn. The elves took their spoils and moved into the cities and those who remained tried to make the best of it that they could. Now the town survives on the income of passing travelers and adventurers. The woods north of the town borders are filled with all manner of ruins and monsters, keeping away the sensible and attracting the criminal and curious. Likely these too will be your main customers.

But though the townspeople wax optimistic about Oldstone, it's clear the place is in a steady decline. More and more people are leaving their homes to seek work in other places. If things don't change soon, the town itself may be abandoned in a few years. Not that it particularly concerns you. You don't plan on staying here the rest of your life. You haven't yet abandoned your ambitions.

When you finally get home around late noon (with the tables and chairs and the rest of your goods in tow) you find a thief in your little ruin, rummaging through your bags while idly chewing on one of those blood potatoes.

"Hey!"

The thief jumps up and without even turning around to see who called out, makes a mad dash for one of the side windows.

>Give chase!
>Let him go, you had nothing of value to take anyway

>>3354220
>Give chase!
Fuck you bitch, we're fucking broke and poor. Go steal shit from some rich asshole merchant instead, faggot

>>3354220
>>Give chase!
Summon our Guard Mold!

>>3354220
>>Give chase!

>>3354226
>>3354229
>>3354336

>Roll 1d20 please (3 counting successes)

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3354375

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3354375

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>3354375

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>3354375

>>3354382
>>3354385
Ohhh, double 13. Either super bad or super good luck.

>>3354220
Thanks for coming back Watdo!

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>>3354382
>>3354385
>>3354387

>13, 13, 5: Success

Rather than trying to chase after him in house, you cut around the front and try to flank him from the road. It works like a charm. You slam into him just as he pops out of the alley between your building and next.

It's a kid. All skin and bones, barely into adolescence. The only thing he managed to steal was a handful of tomatoes and the two blood potatoes stuffed in his pockets.

"Please sir." He holds up his hands to protect his face, which is covered in bruises already.

You lift him up by the collar but don't have the heart to hit him. "What are you doing lad? Thieving at your age! Have some shame."

"I'm sorry sir, please don't turn me in sir." He starts to cry, silently, with the tears falling down and wiping out the dirt where they run.

"What's your name?"

"Badgers sir."

"Badgers?"

"That's what everyone calls me."

He does have the mottled appearance common to the honey badger, if only because of the contrast of the dirt on his face to his pale whitish skin, uncommon around these parts and denoting him as the offspring of some half-blood union.

"Badgers. But what's your real name?"

"Bartholomew sir."

"That is a mouthful. Badgers it is then. It's not good to steal you know."

He nods his head, having at least, the appearance of contrition. "Won't happen again sir."

That's a lie if you've ever heard one. "Where are your parents?"

He just shakes his head as an answer.

"Dead?"

"No sir. My father's a...an adventurer sir, a very great one. A noble even." He squeezes his face as though expecting a blow to fall, and seeing none he opens his eyes wide. "You believe me sir?"

"And your mother?"

"Oh please don't tell my mother sir."

"I'll decided who I want to tell. I might just tell the guards instead."

He grabs your arms. "Oh please sir. Please don't! My mother...I just wanted some food for my mother. She's sick you see, she's a...she was a..." He wipes his eyes.

A nearby patrolling guard now takes an interest in the matter. "Everything alright here? The whoreson bothering you?"

>Release the thief into the firm, swift hand of the law
>Dismiss the nosy guard and take the lad into your restaurant; you're not heartless.
>Write-in

>>3354712
>This lad stole from me. So I wish to come to an arrangement, he works off his debt to me, and you enforce it if eh runs.

>>3354712
>>Dismiss the nosy guard and take the lad into your restaurant; you're not heartless.
First we determine if he's telling the truth. If he is, we can give him food in exchange for working for us.

>>3354735
The guard will just take him, then we'd have to deal with the gargoyle to get him back. We should deal with it ourselves.

>>3354712
>>Dismiss the nosy guard and take the lad into your restaurant; you're not heartless.
Child labour yaaay

>>3354712
>Dismiss the nosy guard and take the lad into your restaurant; you're not heartless.
He'll be a waiter

>>3354712
>Just an unruly kid, I'll handle it. Thank you for your consideration, officer.

good, good, with street urchin and a literal awakened mold our crew is beginning to take shape!

>>3354743
>>3354756
>>3354869
>>3354979

The kid looks at you, pleading and at the same time, already resigned. "Just an unruly kid. I'll handle it myself, thank you."

The guard looks disappointed, like you just encroached on his daily child-beating quota. "Well alright." He walks away and begins a conversation with one of those peasant women who are known as "healthy" in the city vernacular. Meanwhile, you grab the brat and drag him back inside the house.

"Did you take anything else? Your last chance here."

He shakes his head. "No sir, I couldn't...that is there wasn't anything else to take."

"You need food so badly that you'd steal. Why not work for your bread?"

He rubs his arm. "No would take me sir. I don't know any trade and I'm not strong enough to work the docks or the mines."

"Apprentice then."

"No one..." He starts crying again. You give him your handkerchief. "Thank you sir. No one would take me. Not a whoreson. Bad luck. The others even beat me for it. And because I'm a fairskin too, so they say."

"I see." Provincial superstitions. More to the point, prostitution seems more open here than in the city, even if equally prevalent. Not surprising. Adventurers would create such a demand as well.

"Well, the value of the goods you've stolen. How will you pay me back?"

He wrings his neck with both hands, as through trying wring the answer out. "I don't...have any money sir."

"Your mother--"

"Oh please don't sir, I'll do anything. But don't tell my mother."

You sigh. "Alright lad. How about you work for me then? Apprentice. Work off the debt first and then if I like the work, I'll think about hiring you for real."

His eyes light up. "Oh yes, oh I would love to! Yes please! Only...but what is your trade sir?"

You bring yourself to full height. "I...am a cook. This is my restaurant." You swing your arms out. "Or, it will be, once we fix it up."

"Wow! A cook! Will you teach me to cook sir?"

"We'll see. For now, go set up those tables and chairs. I want them against that post there, yes, that one closest to the fireplace." The child practically trips over himself to obey.

Looks like the hiring situation is met for now. Thank god for lax child labor laws. All that's left is the inventory and the renovations. You have some time before the dwarf arrives for the inspection. Perhaps you can use it constructively.

>Teach the lad how to wait tables and man the counter, you'll need that first
>Make some lunch, you're starving--teach the kid some basic prepwork while you're at it
>Try and lure the geline down, see if you can't tame it

>>3355232

>Teach the lad how to wait tables and man the counter, you'll need that first

>>3355232
>>Teach the lad how to wait tables and man the counter, you'll need that first

>>3355232
>Teach the lad how to wait tables and man the counter, you'll need that first

>>3355232
>Make some lunch while commenting on what you're doing.
If the locals know the boy, they might react adversely to him working as waiter. Might be better to keep him out of plain sight.
And warn him about out other companion.

>>3355232
>>Make some lunch, you're starving--teach the kid some basic prepwork while you're at it

Because >>3355280 makes a good point. If people think he's trash, it'll reflect poorly on our shop. We'll bring him out in the public after a bit of positive press.

>>3355232
>Make some lunch, you're starving--teach the kid some basic prepwork while you're at it

Can teach him to wait tables and such after he's been cleaned up a bit.

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>>3355280
>>3355288
>Deftly side-stepping my trap

>>3355232
I'll change my vote here >>3355265
to
>>Make some lunch, you're starving--teach the kid some basic prepwork while you're at it

>>3355232
>>Make some lunch, you're starving--teach the kid some basic prepwork while you're at it

I don't think you guys realize how much prepwork actually goes into cooking. A compentent Sous Chef is worth at least 10 waiters.

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>>3355232
>Make some lunch, you're starving--teach the kid some basic prepwork while you're at it

>>3355319
Oh (You)! I missed you Watdo, please never fucking change or consider suicide ever.

>>3355232
>How will you pay me back?
>"Your mother--"
For a moment I thought we were going to bang his mom.

The morning excursions have left you famished. It is a late lunch but the best meals are the late ones, the point before one begins to become satisfied with hunger itself. You call the boy over. It won’t do to make him a waiter, not yet anyway, better to keep in the back where the people won’t see him. You don’t want your restaurant to get a bad reputation before you even get off the ground.

“Fetch the knife block, from my bag. Lower front pocket.” So he does and lays it on the counter. Not the mithril beauties of your master, nor the adamantine masterwork that the greatest chef in the world wields, but plain steel. You pull three knives from the block and lay them in front of him. “Lesson 1. Knives.” It takes a moment for him to realize you’re about to teach him something and when he does he’s all focus. “A chef really only needs three knives, and just one in a pinch. The pairing knife, useful for cutting smaller or asymmetric foods, fruits and vegetables usually. Good for peeling too. Bread knife. See the serrated edge?” Nodding. “That makes it easier to slice the bread without crumbling everything. Now there isn’t much of a baking presence in this town, we’ll change that eventually but for now and forever, the most important knife is this one. The chef’s knife. It’s the one you’ll use the most. Let’s see your hand.”

He gives it. Small, even for a child his age, but so is he. “Well, this one is probably too big for you, so we’ll have you use…this one instead.” You give him the knife and he takes it as one might take a sword from a king. You’re starting to like this kid. “Now. Onions. You slap down the bag of onions you bought yesterday, half-full. I will show you one time and then you’ll do the rest.” More nodding. “Cut a little off the end first, that gives you a stable base. Cut in half through the top, but don’t cut off the root that’ll set you crying like you were before. Now, peel off the first layer, lay down flat and—this is important, watch my wrist and the knife. It’s a rolling motion. You let the knife do the work, always. Like so. Let the knife do the work. Easy. That’s slices. If I want diced, you cut through the middle like this, even width—try your best and go slow at first—then across the top, thin like this—see how it stays together? Then slices again and…there’s the dice. Easy. Always let the knife do the work.” You wipe the blade and toss the onions into a bowl. “Alright. Your turn. Half sliced and half diced.”

“Yes sir!”

“Yes, chef.”

“Yes, chef."

That felt pretty good. You wonder if your old master ever felt like this when he was teaching you. Probably not, he had more a heavy-handed approach, as the scars on your back can attest. But you see no reason to follow his barbaric practices.

Cont.

>>3355824
Twenty minutes later you go back to check on his progress. He has tears and snot running down his face, and his dice is not quite uniform, but otherwise not bad. It will be a while yet before he can go fast, but that's only a matter of time. You rub your hands, a minimum wage sous chef--you're genius Gaston. A genius!

You take some of the onions and begin preparing a simple dish of potatoes and fish, using the skillet over the open flame of the fireplace. A tangy pan-sauce is conjured up from the sucs leftover in the pan, some lemon juice, butter and a few basic spices.

About the time that the smell starts wafting through the room, you hear your little apprentice scream.

"Don't worry it won't hurt you." You say. The geline has come down again to eat your food. Mooching bastard.

"What is that?"

"Geline. There's supposed to be born when a spirit combines with molds, yeast and fungi. This one obviously had a lot of time to grow." Come to think of it, wouldn't that mean someone died in this place at one point? The geline lumbers over on four legs, keeping its glowing eyes square on the skillet of fish. You throw a small piece to it and it snatches it mid-air and absorbs it in its tentacle. Then it purrs.

"Are you finished with the onions?"

"Almost."

"Well, come and eat first, you can finish afterward." He joins you at the table. It feels good to sit in a chair and eat like a human being instead of on the floor. You give him the bigger portion of the fish and save some of it for him to take home to his mother. The fish is a tad undersalted, but otherwise acceptable. The kid begins crying as soon as he takes a bite.

"Not enough salt, I know."

He shakes his head, his mouth too full to talk. He chews, swallows, wipes his eyes. "This is best thing I've ever tasted." He says.

"You have no future as critic." You say, as you give him some more off your own plate. "Eat." Again you're reminded of your own master. Always giving you seconds off his own plate, listening to you eat while he looked over the day's books, sometimes testing you on the day's recipes. Food is love, he used to say.

You failed him. But it's not over yet. You'll get it all back, you can still do him proud.

"Alright. I want those onions chopped and then those dishes washed and put back. After that you can go home. This is for your mother." You slip him two silver pieces as well. "For medicine." You say. He looks like he's going to cry again, but Onul Stonefingers steals the moment by barging through the front door and shouting, very obviously drunk.

>>3355829
"Hell of a time finding the place!" He says, leaning over as if he's about to hurl, only to stand back up as if nothing had happened. "So! Let's take a walk!" You lead him around the restaurant, showing him the basement, the yard, the kitchen, the commons, the broken stairs, the whole works. He's pensive, possibly just trying to keep his dinner down throughout the whole thing but by the end of it seems to have sobered up considerably. "Yes, I think my original estimate was on the money. 1250 even. I can have my men get started on the oven tomorrow. Maybe look at the pipework. Get a sink in here. Sure, very respectable. Gas stove?"

"For now."

"Sure, enchanted stuff is pricey. Very good, but pricey. Alright, tomorrow then. Keep your doors open." He looks at the doorway without a door. "Right. Tomorrow then." He stumbles back outside, somehow falling into drunkenness right after that brief sobriety, and is gone. Badgers leaves soon after, but not before giving you a quick, tight hug. He has no idea the poor bastard; you're going to work him to the bone.

And so another day passes in the ruins.

---

SESSION END

Sorry for the premature end and overall choppy session. My arm's been disagreeable the whole day and I don't want to take any chances.

>>3355832
It's all good. Thanks for the run.

>>3355832
I hope you've made (or are making) a decent recovery after the shit that happened a month and a half ago.

>>3355832
nooo i missed it - any idea when the next session will be? this looked really interesting :(

>>3357255
Watdo usually runs during weekends only. So next Saturday.

>>3357255
>>3357260
Yes, I forgot to mention this at the end. Next session will be Saturday ~8 AM PST

>>3356158
The cast is off, but there's still a lot of stiffness in the joints and it basically hurts when I do any repetitive activity (like typing) for too long. Doctor told me to take it easy for another month, but unfortunately I don't really have that luxury as my quals are coming up. So I've basically been working with intermittent breaks whenever it flares up. Hopefully next week will be a little better. End of blogpost.

>>3358248
Bless your soul OP, we are with (You).

lovin this stuff. sorry i haven't participated much, i hate lurking but i'm too busy to keep up usually.

Don't forget to archive!

>>3363116
Thanks for the reminder, it's archived.

>>3361064
No problem my man. Just happy to have another reader. And there'll be plenty of opportunities to participate outside of the regular session once I unveil my recipe mechanics.

I for one look forward to seeing anons try to optimize the menu to minimize inventory spoilage while maximizing revenue.

>>3358248
>The cast is off
Mine just went on today.

Too bad I missed this.
Keep going, watdo, its fun!

New thread: >>3372883

Last post lol

HAH Got'em

no.

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>>3388398

Wheres my crabs?